


Practice Makes Perfect

by Mari_kel



Series: Naruto Founder's Week 2020 [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Free day, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Naruto Founders Week 2020, One Shot, Practice Kissing, Swearing, Warring States Period (Naruto), around 14 y/o, neither knows what they're doing, return of the feral birdboy ;), they're both dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_kel/pseuds/Mari_kel
Summary: “You want to kiss me?” Madara asks, squinting at Hashirama.“No, I asked if we couldpracticekissing,” Hashirama corrects, raising a finger.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Naruto Founder's Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973896
Comments: 21
Kudos: 201
Collections: Founders Week 2020, why im sleep deprived 💖✨





	Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7: Free Day
> 
> This is completely self-indulgent...for me. And what I mean by that is this is an au of my own au LOL. I've mentioned before I have one ongoing hashimada [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24385219/chapters/58816735), and this one-shot ~could~ take place in that verse, the versions of the characters are the same. I had this idea but I probably won't use it in that fic's canon, but it's one that I love and wanted to write so this gives me the perfect opportunity. 
> 
> This one-shot works fine as a complete stand-alone bc I don't want to spoil too much about BoaF. The only things that might add clarity are 1. the Uchiha are descended from tengu and have several bird characteristics/customs and 2. Hashirama and Mito are first cousins, they have the same Uzumaki grandfather. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“You want to kiss me?” Madara asks, squinting at Hashirama.

They’re sitting at the edge of Shikkotsu forest, furoshiki spread out on the ground for their lunch. It’s a nice day, one of the first truly warm days of spring and the trees have started to bud. Madara hasn’t even removed the wooden lid on his bento before Hashirama changed the topic from the new kinds of mushrooms he found in the roots of Kore’s tree to _this._

“No, I asked if we could _practice_ kissing,” Hashirama corrects, raising a finger.

“Why?” They could only meet up once a month and _this_ is how Hashirama wants to spend their time? Madara wants to dance, he misses the rush of clashing metal and quick and furious blows, the sensation he only gets with Hashirama not… _kissing._

 _This is because of Mito’s dumb romance books, isn’t it?_ Madara knows those poorly written things are to blame. Hashirama has been _way_ too invested in them, sending him entire passages if not an actual copy in their letters. And he wouldn’t stop, no matter how many times Madara pointed out how weird and bad they were in his return letters.

 _Who courts using flowers? Flowers will wilt and die, what kind of message of eternal love is that? Rocks are obviously the superior choice. Hand-holding is a sign of romantic interest? What? There’s not a person in the Uchiha clan I haven’t held hands with, am I suddenly trying to court the entire clan? Obviously not, that’s just stupid, this book is just plain wrong. It’s so wrong it doesn’t even cover_ actual _signs of interest and courting. Where’s the singing? Not one man sings in this entire book Hashirama, it is a_ vital _component of any serious courtship and in fifty pages there isn’t a single—_

“You’re not even listening to me!” Hashirama complains, interrupting Madara’s thoughts. “You’re thinking about Mito’s books again, aren’t you? You always get a very specific _look_ —”

“Shut up, Hashirama.” Madara scowls and kicks his leg.

“As I was _saying_ ,” Hashirama gives him a pointed look, “the spring festival is in two days and I want to confess to Umi. But what if she wants me to kiss her after? I’ve never kissed anyone, Madara! What if I’m a bad kisser? I need to be prepared!”

“I thought _we_ were going to the spring festival together. Isn’t that the entire reason I begged and bartered with the old fucking hag for this weekend instead of next?” Hashirama better not be planning on ditching him. Madara even had to bring that ridiculous getup that Chushin made so he wouldn’t be recognized in Uzushio.

“Of course we’re going together! It’s tradition to confess in the morning or early afternoon before the festival starts. I’ll confess to Umi then meet up with you. Simple.”

“Well, I still don’t get why you’re asking _me._ You’re planning on confessing and then kissing a _girl_ ; wouldn’t it make more sense to ask a girl for help? Ask Mito or Touka,” Madara says and finally opens his bento. He takes his piece from Hashirama’s, a bite of his own, and then offers Hashirama his box.

“Eww, Madara those are my _cousins_ ,” Hashirama says as he takes a berry from Madara’s box.

“Okay, I get Mito, she’s from your mother’s blood, but Touka? She’s a Senju.”

“This is another weird Uchiha thing, isn’t it? No, Madara, I really, _really_ don’t want to practice kissing with one of my cousins. _Any_ of my cousins.” Hashirama shakes his head in disgust.

“Well, then why are you even planning on confessing to Umi? She’s an Uzumaki so _technically_ she’s your cousin,” Madara mocks and takes another bite.

“Nuh-uh!” Hashirama leans close to him, his finger wagging right in front of Madara’s face. If he wasn’t eating, he’d bite it. “She has _black_ hair, not red hair.”

“Hashirama you fucking idiot, _you_ don’t have red hair,” Madara jabs his chopsticks at the other boy and Hashirama leans back so he doesn’t get stabbed.

“I wasn’t finished! She has black hair _and_ her parents moved to Uzushio when she was a baby. She’s not an Uzumaki,” Hashirama sticks his tongue out at Madara.

“Then…then why even bring up hair color…I don’t…” Madara forces himself to take a deep breath before he could get side-tracked from Hashirama’s idiocy, “alright, _look._ I’ll help you but I don’t actually know how useful it’ll be. It’s not like I’m a kissing expert.”

“Great!” Hashirama grins and then leans forward to smash his mouth against Madara’s.

Madara, not realizing Hashirama meant _right this second_ , reacts in the usual manner of something coming close to his face or mouth.

He bites down.

Hard.

Hashirama recoils with a high-pitched yelp. He glares at Madara, arms crossed as blood drips down his chin.

“ _You said_ —” he starts, words slightly slurred by his swelling lip.

“I didn’t think you meant right now! I’m still eating, Hashirama!” Madara shakes his bento as he licks Hashirama’s blood from his teeth. Hashirama’s sulk intensifies. He’s really milking it this time, shiny tears in his eyes and choosing not to heal the holes in his lip. It’s not like this was the first or last time Madara was going to bite him. Hashirama had a way of infuriating and making him want to tear out his hair and feathers like no other. The only difference was this time it was, _mostly_ , accidental.

Hashirama sniffs and Madara doesn’t know how he manages it, but a tear and a drop of blood drip simultaneously to the blanket beneath them. Madara growls and angrily slides the lid on his bento.

“Fine!” Madara huffs and glares at Hashirama.

“Well now I don’t want to if you’re going to make that kind of face,” Hashirama says but he inches closer to Madara, mindlessly healing the bleeding holes in his lip.

“Hashirama I am so godsdamn close to finding a cliff, gutting you, and then throwing you off of it,” Madara snarls. Hashirama’s hands close around his fists and twist until he can link his fingers with Madara’s.

“What happened to gutting me and throwing me in a river?”

“You’re practically some…weird tree-fish hybrid, it’s not as effective.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Hashirama grins and leans down before Madara can respond. He’s tempted to bite him again, just to make a point, but doesn’t. Hashirama’s lips press gently against his own.

Madara holds stock-still and keeps his eyes locked onto Hashirama’s.

After a few seconds, Hashirama pulls away and clears his throat.

“A few critiques—”

“—oh here we go—”

“—I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to close your eyes. That’s what all of Mito’s books say—”

“—yes and I wrote three paragraphs of what I thought about that and how it’s yet _another_ example of how her stupid books are wrong. Also you had _your_ eyes open too, you _fucking_ —”

“—and the point of kissing someone else is to, you know, have them respond. If I wanted to kiss a statue I would, or maybe a tree, though that’d be kinda weird—”

“—how’d this turn into criticizing _me?_ I offer to help _you_ , and this is the thanks I get—”

“—Alright!” Hashirama claps his hands together, effectively bringing their bickering to an end. Madara scowls and imagines how good it would feel to throttle him. “Round three, let’s try it again.”

He barely finishes his sentence before Madara surges forward and slams his mouth against Hashirama’s.

It’s not a kiss, it’s a blunt attack.

Madara’s teeth rattle and cut into the soft skin of his mouth while Hashirama, who’s not properly bracing himself, topples over onto his back with a groan.

Victory curls in Madara’s gut even as he spits out a glob of blood.

“What was _that_?” Hashirama moans, raking his hands down his face.

“Jee, I don’t know Hashirama, what if Umi is an aggressive kisser, you ever think of that? Maybe you should practice, prepare a little. I’ll be happy to help,” Madara sneers.

“Okay, I deserved that one,” Hashirama pushes himself up. “Round four? This time with no biting, no criticizing, and no aggressive kissing.” 

Madara huffs but agrees. He leans in just as Hashirama does and they meet in the middle. Hashirama’s lips are cold and smooth. Madara’s not surprised his ridiculous healing extends to something as small and mundane as chapped lips, but it’s different to feel rather than see.

It’s not an _unpleasant_ sensation, Hashirama’s lips against his, but it’s not the _heart-stopping, pulse-pounding_ sensation described in Mito’s books.

_I knew it. I knew those things were full of shit—_

Hashirama makes a noise against his mouth. Madara can barely see it, their faces are pressed together, but he’s pretty sure the Hashirama raises his eyebrows in exasperation.

_“You’re thinking about Mito’s books again, aren’t you? You always get a very specific look.”_

Madara rolls his eyes, reaching up to wrap his arms around Hashirama’s neck. Remembering his _other_ words, Madara tries to kiss back. One of the many, _many_ faults of Mito’s books was a lack of useful, detailed information. Instead, they were full of vague, flowery language that had Madara seething with frustration.

He doesn’t know what to do. But before he can make up his mind and do _something_ , Hashirama moves. He tilts head to the side. With the new angle the pressure changes, and he runs his tongue over the closed seam of Madara’s mouth. Madara jolts, gives a little instinctive gasp, and Hashirama’s tongue slips in.

It’s very odd, Madara decides, to feel someone else’s tongue lick and run along the inside of his mouth. He feels Hashirama’s chakra gather and takes the form of familiar medical ninjutsu. Only instead of gathering on his hands, it’s on his tongue _._ The gashes in Madara’s lip heal shut.

 _Idiot._ Madara thinks fondly and gives a sharp nip to the other boy’s tongue. The reaction is instantaneous. Hashirama moans, and his hands grab at Madara’s hips. His eyelids flutter until they’re barely cracked open, his pupils blown wide and Madara strains to see the slivers of brown. _This isn’t too dissimilar from dancing._ A similar back and forth but with tongues instead of fists or steel.

Comforted by the familiar comparison, Madara kisses enthusiastically back. It never stops being _weird_ if he thinks about it too hard, but the pleasure soon overshadows everything else. And it _is_ pleasurable. Little nibbles and bites, the constant change of pressure. Madara feels hot, but it’s not the painful burning of overflow. It’s pleasant. It makes him squirm and press closer to Hashirama, every nerve buzzing, his heart pounding against his chest. Hashirama sucks on his bottom lip and this time it’s Madara who moans and pushes his tongue into the other boy’s mouth. He wants closer. He wants more.

Hashirama breaks away first, gasping for breath even as Madara chases his mouth.

“How…how are you…not even winded?” Hashirama pants.

“Circular breathing. Any half-way decent katon specialist can do it.”

Hashirama laughs, bright and happy, and presses a quick kiss to Madara’s cheek. Only now do his cheeks burn in embarrassment. His lips throb, he can feel the heated pulse of his own heartbeat as he slips his arms from Hashirama’s neck, turning away with a grumble.

“So what did you think? Was it alright?” Hashirama asks, twisting to look Madara in the eye. His thumbs rub nervous circles into Madara’s hips.

“Again, I don’t have a lot of experience, but I thought it was fine. It felt nice.”

“Really? You really mean it?” Hashirama’s hands slide upward to grip Madara’s arms.

“Yes,” Madara bites out. His lips still ache, the weird heat still coils low in his gut. He’s hungry, Madara decides, he wants to finish his lunch. Hashirama beams and crushes him a hug, only to suddenly freeze. “What?”

“We’re…sitting…” Hashirama says in one of the gloomiest tones Madara has ever heard. He slumps against Madara, dejected.

“So?”

“I’m planning on confessing under a peach tree. _Standing_ under a peach tree, Madara.”

“So?”

“ _So_ we’ll be at completely different angles! It’ll be totally different standing up. What if I miss? What if I get the tilt wrong? What if I’m a bad kisser standing up?! Come on, get up, we have to do it again. I need more practice!” Hashirama whines, standing up and trying to drag Madara up after him.

While it should have been easy for him, Hashirama is significantly stronger, Madara digs his heels in, refusing to budge.

“After I finish eating!” Madara yells, reaching for his bento with the hand Hashirama isn’t trying to yank out of its socket.

“No, we have to do it now!”

“After lunch!”

“Now!”

“After!”

“Madara!”

“Hashirama!”

“MADARA!!”

“HASHIRAMA!!”

A flock of birds rises, startled, as their voices echo across the forest.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, they really are that dumb LOL. I enjoy pining, but I also love the hilarity of, ah yes why shouldn't I be able to make out with my best friend? We're best friends! Who else am I going to do this with? They figure it out...eventually. 
> 
> This event has been so much fun! Thank you to everyone who has read and left kudos/comments on the fics/art. It means so much to me! <3 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!


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